


One step back and two steps forward

by amy_broad



Category: Cricket RPF
Genre: Getting Back Together, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-22
Updated: 2017-07-22
Packaged: 2018-12-05 14:56:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,417
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11580387
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/amy_broad/pseuds/amy_broad
Summary: 'It was never a serious thing.’He pauses, glancing up at the other bowler.'Not like you.’2014. Stuart and Steven have broken up, their relationship a casualty of the winter from hell. They can't run from this forever.





	One step back and two steps forward

**Author's Note:**

> This was written in late 2014/early 2015, and I've just come across it whilst sorting through my old documents. It's no masterpiece, but I liked the feeling behind it enough to want to share it. I do, however, apologise for the 16 year old version of myself. 
> 
> As always, all of this is completely made up - these two haven't played county cricket against each other for a while and I definitely don't think it happened during that 2014 season. I don't own either of the boys (though I can dream) and this is just a bit of fun.
> 
> All I can say is, it's nice to be back posting again.
> 
> (Title comes from Around the World and Back by State Champs)

Steven Finn hasn’t seen Stuart Broad for almost five months, and maybe that’s why his mouth feels like sandpaper. They haven’t spoken since Steve left Australia – maybe that’s why his palms are sweaty. But he’s been thinking about Stuart every day for those long five months, and that’s probably why his whole body is shaking.

Things were going fine. Well, maybe not fine, but okay. Things were going okay. When Steve was sent home from Australia, he thought that was it. His career was over. But the coaches at Middlesex were a godsend – they picked him up and put him back together again. By the time the season started, he felt good. Better than he’d felt in a long time. But that ache in his chest still wouldn’t go away. He’d watched England’s limited overs tour of the West Indies from the sofa in his flat. He’d watched England’s short WT20 run from _behind_ the sofa in his flat. Mostly with his hands over his face. He’d been advised not to watch the games by his coaches; to take his mind away from the entire England set up. But he couldn’t help himself. All it took was one glance at Stuart’s face and he was glued to the television. Steve cursed his stupid choices, but he couldn’t bear to miss one game after that.

But things are most definitely _not_ okay on the morning of the first day of Middlesex vs Nottinghamshire. Mainly because Steve is dreading the moment Stuart walks through the door, and the moment he has to be in the man’s presence again.

You couldn’t exactly call it a fling, or an affair, but Stuart and Steven had ‘something going on.’ It began on the Ashes tour of Australia in 2010/11. Stuart was the one to finally make the first move after months of unbearable tension, and he grabbed Steven by the waist and kissed him. And then they were _together._ They were together for the next three years, until Steven was sent home from the Australia tour at the start of 2014. Before Steve boarded his long flight back home, Stuart had suggested they take a break. ‘For both of us’, he’d said. ‘So that we can concentrate on our cricket for a while.’ He’d said it calmly, and there were no dramatic goodbyes. Soon enough, Steven was gone, on a flight back to England, and Stuart was alone in his hotel room. It seemed considerably quieter than it had when Steven was around. He had sat alone in the room, for a long while, thinking about their parting moment, and Steven had cried for the duration of the entire flight home. They didn’t see each other again – not one call, one text or one passing by. Not for almost 5 months. Until Middlesex played Nottinghamshire.

It’s an understatement to say Steven is nervous. He’s physically shaking. It gets to the point where Eoin even comes and asks him if he’s okay, because he’s ‘as white as a sheet.’ Steve just nods, a bit unconvincingly. Eoin shrugs, and is about to walk away when something seems to click.

“It’s not because we’re pl...shit,” Eoin mutters, almost to himself. After pausing for a short moment, he reaches over to put an arm around Steven’s shoulder, and squeezes it comfortingly. “I know you haven’t seen him in ages...but it’ll be okay. It didn’t end badly, did it?” Steve shakes his head forlornly. “Well you’ve got nothing to worry about, then.”

When Eoin leaves to go for a net, Steve sighs. He’s got _everything_ to worry about. How is he supposed to cope with playing cricket again when Stuart’s there?

Steve tries desperately to keep his head down when he jogs out onto the field for warm-ups, knowing he has to pass the Nottinghamshire squad to get to where the rest of his teammates are. It’s going well, at first, but he can’t resist glancing over. Just to see what Stuart looks like. To see whether he’s grown the facial hair back, to see how blue his eyes look. To see if he’s smiling, if he’s happy. But looking up is a mistake. Stuart seems to have been waiting for him, albeit a bit uneasily. The moment Steve looks up, Stuart catches his eye. He smiles shyly, even sadly, and then looks away.

Steve excuses himself and runs off the pitch. He just can’t be there any longer. He’s told Eoin he needs the loo, but he’s not sure that his friend believed him.

Ten minutes later, Steve is huddled in a toilet cubicle, hugging his knees and trying not to cry. He just _can’t do it_. Not when Stuart’s there, all blonde and beautiful with his blue eyes sparkling, watching him. Watching _him._ It fills him with a fear he’s never experienced before. He’s decided he’ll have to tell Chris he can’t play. He can’t _go on like this._ He just has to get away, as far away from Stuart as possible. How could he possibly concentrate on cricket?

Taking a deep breath, Steve leaves the cubicle and washes his hands, splashing some water onto his face.  He’s just leaving the bathroom, about to turn left towards the stairs, when someone coughs. Steve turns around and almost chokes. There, stood just a metre away, is a tall man, dressed in Nottinghamshire training kit with a scattering of fair stubble across his pale face and pink cheeks. A slightly receding hairline gives way to a large forehead and round, blue eyes.

The two men look at each other for a long moment, neither willing to break the stare, but neither willing to make the first move. It’s neither uncomfortable nor comfortable. It’s nostalgic, it’s homely, but in what sort of way Steve isn’t really sure. There’s a familiar cough, and the blonde opens his mouth, capturing Steve’s attention away from those gorgeous blue eyes. He wasn’t going to admit he’d been losing himself in them slightly.

“I....I don’t really know what to say, Finny...” mumbles Stuart. “I’ve thought about this moment for so long, and now it’s here I’ve fucked it up.”

“You haven’t fucked it up....” said Steve with a smile – it felt good to smile again. “Well actually you’ve fucked it up a million times and I _still_ love you. You didn’t reply to any of my texts for a good six months, and I _still_ love you. You sent me snapchats of you and Jade half-naked in a pool, and I _still_ love you. That one was tough, mind. And now you’re here, and I was so nervous that I was sat in those fucking toilets sobbing like a kid, and I _still_ bloody love you.”

“About those snapchats...” begins Stuart with a slight cough, but he’s smiling a bit - even when Steve lunges towards him to dig him in the ribs and he squeals. Like old times. ‘They don’t matter.’ The blonde sighs. ‘It was never a serious thing.’ He pauses, glancing up at the other bowler. ‘Not like you.’

Steve nods, taking it all in, as if to say ‘go on.’ Stuart takes a deep breath, and Steve crosses and uncrosses his arms. Just because he’s nervous.

‘I...I....would it sound stupid if I said I’d practiced what I was going to say to you?’ Stuart begins. Steve shrugs. Which isn’t disheartening, but isn’t exactly encouraging either; if Stuart’s honest. ‘Well...I did. And it probably does sound stupid. But whatever. I....I guess what I’m trying to say is....shit, for a guy who’s practiced this speech in front of his mirror I sound like an idiot.’ Stuart stops for a moment, placing a hand on the wall to his left and leaning against it. ‘Steve....I’m sorry. I’m sorry I...I waited so long to clear this up with you. I felt like we needed to do this in person, like a phone conversation wouldn’t do it justice after everything that happened...and...I’m a coward and have been putting it off all this time when....all I wanted to do was see your face again.’

‘Why did you take so long?’ Steve replies, and it’s so quiet that Stuart can barely hear him. But he knows what he said, and the hurt in the tone of Steven’s voice is clear, and it lingers in the blue of his eyes like a broken promise.

‘........I was scared. I was scared you’d reject me....I kicked you down...let you go....at the time you needed me most. It got tough for you and I....I....I wasn’t there for you...I pushed you away. And I hate myself for it. We could’ve gotten through it together...I....I’m so sorry....I know that’s not enough...but I really am, Steve.’ Stuart’s been staring at the ground – at his shoes – and when he looks up Steve is staring straight at him.

‘Hey, don’t blame this all on yourself,’ he says, and there’s a comforting hand on Stuart’s shoulder. The physical contact startles them both a bit and Steve’s breathing is markedly heavier. ‘It was my fault too...just because you didn’t ring me or anything didn’t mean that I couldn’t have contacted you. I...I was scared too...I didn’t think you wanted anything to do with me.’

‘Oh Steve, of course I did....I do.....’ whispers Stuart. There’s a long moment of silence, during which the blonde is sure he swallows at least ten times. Then he steps back, and Steve’s hand is left hanging in mid air. ‘Listen,’ he mumbles. ‘This isn’t really the time for this.’ Steve nods, though he can feel his legs starting to shake again. ‘Can we talk...after play......we could go back to my place?’ The brunette lets out a heavy sigh of relief – his mind was starting to doubt him _again_ – and he smiles.

‘Yeah....yeah....I’d like that,’ he says.

***

Stuart pours them both a glass of red wine. It seems like such a trivial thing; such the _wrong_ thing to be drinking during the conversation they both know they’re going to have to have. They sip nervously, clutching the glasses maybe just a little too tight. It’s something to hold on to, at least.

‘So...’ begins Stuart, putting his wine glass down on the coffee table. The two are sat side by side on Stuart’s dark leather sofa, but not close enough to make any physical contact. Steve crosses and uncrosses his legs, biting his lip and Stuart’s eyes wander anxiously.

The silence is beginning to get a bit much for Steve and he knows Stuart well enough to understand that it’s frustrating him too. For two men who’ve spent so much time together, the uncomfortable atmosphere is unnerving and strange.

‘I’d like to forget about those six months,’ says Steven, finally. ‘They were hell....just bowling and bowling and getting fuck all out of it, and stumbling home to an empty flat and sleeping in an empty bed with unfamiliar sheets. Waking up to a lonely room, eating breakfast alone and driving alone. As if I wasn’t working myself up enough about my cricket.’

‘I understand,’ promises Stuart, and there’s a tinge of sadness in his voice. ‘This house seems so vast when I’m alone...and to be honest, I didn’t have the best six months either. No one was safe after that series. I couldn’t sleep in a bed with sheets that smelled like you no matter how many times I washed them, and your coat is still hanging up in the porch and your side of the bed is still unmade. Your toothbrush is in ou-...my bathroom and I couldn’t bring myself to get new sheets and give you back the coat and the toothbrush and make the bed. Because it reminded me of you.‘ A pause. ‘Sometimes I’d forget, and I’d expect you to be there....’ He sighs.

Steve would like to convince himself he isn’t crying, but when he tries to speak his voice is strangled and there’s a lump in his throat. He grips the arm of the sofa for support, willing himself, _forcing_ himself to say something.

‘We’ve both been stupid,’ is what he manages to come out with, and he curses himself. ‘What I’m trying to say is....the way we both dealt with things wasn’t right...and in hindsight I know that we should’ve handled the situation a different way.’

‘I missed you,’ admits Stuart, after a long moment.

‘I missed you too.’

Stuart hesitates for a second, but he reaches out to curl one hand under the hem of Steven’s shirt and pull him towards him. He feels his back hit the arm of the sofa as he pulls Steve on top of him, who plants his hands either side of his head. Steve beams down at Stuart, that bright, warm smile that the blonde hasn’t seen in months. Then suddenly there’s a mouth on his, kissing him fiercely. Kissing him hungrily, only stopping to gasp for breath before pouncing again. A moment later, there’s a tongue in his mouth, and hands on the nape of his neck. He responds eagerly, kissing back with all the passion he can muster. He’s dreamt about this kiss for so long – it seems an age since he has held Stuart in his arms, kissed him, touched him, tasted him. And he revels in it. It’s everything he hoped for, everything he once had. Stuart’s lips are soft and loving but they demand more, they drag every ounce of lust out of him and only serve to fuel his desires even more. He wraps his arms around Stuart, between the man and the sofa, and holds him tight. Pulls his body closer, appreciating the warmth and the heat radiating from him. They reaffirm and reclaim everything that was once theirs. Eventually they break apart, hazy eyed, and Stuart takes a deep breath, smiling up at Steven. Steven traces the blonde’s jaw line with his thumb, before moving up to brush his lips.

‘I love you,’ breathes Stuart, placing a gentle kiss on Steven’s nose. ‘I really _really_ love you.’

‘Always have...always will,’ replies Steve, leaning in for another kiss. Stuart pulls Steve beside him and in response; he snuggles closer, wrapping his arms around the blonde’s waist. Stuart rests his head on Steven’s shoulder, and Steve can’t help but press a light kiss to his forehead.


End file.
